


Family

by ParadiseIsntPerfect



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:38:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseIsntPerfect/pseuds/ParadiseIsntPerfect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of Clan Lavellan, and in particular those pertaining to four of its members, two sets of siblings. Isalasanda and Alyssana are fraternal twins, and she ran away at fourteen to become an Orlesian bard before returning to her Clan at the start of the elven rebellion in Orlais. Their cousins, Atishavir and Revassan, are the First to Keeper Deshanna and a clan hunter, respectively. These are their stories. *dum-dum* (Isalasanda Lavellan belongs to TevinterSoldier. The other three are mine.)</p><p>Originally meant to be a compilation of crack and canon, I've decided to feature most prominently Inquisitor Alyssana Lavellan's story here. Entries will cover both DAI and subsequent DLC/future events, as well as events that transpire during her decade as a bard. Entries may not be precisely in chronological order, but all will be dated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. OC Kiss Meme: Isalasanda & Atishavir

_**9:20** _

Birds sang in the trees around them and the sounds of the adults working provided a soothing background to the children playing. Atishavir swung her feet through the air, comfortably leaning against the trunk of the tree that was her perch. Below her were her little brother, their two cousins, and several of the other Lavellan Clan children. Turning her attention back towards her tree, Atishavir pulled out the small knife that her father had entrusted her with on her tenth birthday. Wielding its sharp point against the bark, the young girl began to carve a doodle into the tree, unsure exactly what she was trying to picture in its surface.

A shriek from below caught her attention through her focus. Atishavir looked down to see her brother arguing with another five year old in the Clan, while Isalasanda cried and Alyssana had her hands clapped over her mouth, green eyes wide. Atishavir sheathed her knife and slid down from her tree perch, landing with a gentle thump near the scene of childhood distress.

Putting her hands on her hips, Atishavir was the perfect picture of an angry elven mother, if she were twenty years older. "What's going on here?" Revassan continued to glare at the other boy, who now pouted and stared at her ten year old self, nervous. "Shoo," Tish said, waving her hands at the child. He wasn't her responsibility like the other three. He scampered off to join the other children in play while Atishavir dealt with her relatives.

"He pushed Isal, Tish." Revassan spoke first, meeting her gaze steadily with all the seriousness of his extra year in age over the twins. Fat tears still rolled down the younger boy's cheeks while his twin sister knelt and looked as though she might poke at his bleeding knee.

"Don't do that, Aly," Atishavir instructed, adding action to her words as she pulled the four year old girl back from her twin. Alyssana pouted but did as she was told. Revassan added his own help by grabbing the little girl's hand.

Bending over the boo-boo, Atishavir took a look at it. It didn't seem to be too bad, just a scrape, like she had had growing up as well, like these three would likely get many more of. " _Hamin, lethallin_. It's not so bad, see?" She leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his wound. When she pulled back, it looked even better and she smiled. Applying her will through magic was something she'd been toying with after she first suspected she might have it two weeks prior. Of course, she couldn't leave it unaddressed for much longer; the Keeper would need to be told.

Isal laughed, smiling though his tears were still wet on his cheeks, and wrapped his arms around her neck. Giggling as well, Atishavir picked him up as she stood. "Come on, you two, let's see if Hahren Sorian will tell us a story." With that suggestion bringing smiles back to every face, the four headed off back towards the center of Clan Lavellan's camp.


	2. OC Kiss Meme: Isalasanda & Revassan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isalasanda is 18, Revassan is 19, and the time has come for them to earn their vallaslin. Can they withstand the pain?

_**9:34** _

Revassan turned his head to look at his cousin, their hands clasped in the space between them. They each sat, cross-legged, in the center of the camp, a circle of their family, their clan, around them, watching with baited breath. They would get their vallaslin today, together, finally. Atishavir offered her brother and cousin an encouraging smile from her place just behind Keeper Deshanna, both of them decked out in their ceremonial garb as First and Keeper respectively. Revassan and Isalasanda were also in the traditional garb of a young elf about to receive their vallaslin: simple cotton trousers and nothing else. Isal squeezed Revassan’s hand and gave the older youth a smile that matched the First’s. Rev returned it, hoping his confidence was not misplaced.

Keeper Deshanna stepped forward and any whispers hushed. “You have reached this point of your own will, and you have purified yourselves and mediated long on our traditions and our pantheon.” Her voice was steady and the pair of them had had discussions previously about which particular deity they would want to honor in their vallaslin. “It is my great honor, _da’lenen_ , to bestow the markings of our People on you today. Are you ready?”

Isalasanda and Revassan nodded in sync, gazes and faces firm. It would be painful, but that was the greatest part of the trial. They must endure without flinching, without screaming or crying out. The boys’ grip on each other tightened and neither was sure who initiated the change in their grip.

“ _Mala suledin nadas, da’lenen_ ,” the Keeper said solemnly and motioned for her First to bring forward the ink and tools necessary for the marking of a child as an adult.

It felt like hours passed, and they likely did. Any time either Isal or Revassan wanted to scream or flinch or cry, they would start a war between their hands, each trying to squeeze harder than the other. It proved to be as excellent a distraction as meditating on their deities and the paths of their futures. Finally, Keeper Deshanna stepped back from them both, a smile on her face and an echoing one on Atishavir’s face behind her. “Well done, Isalasanda, Revassan. Welcome to the adulthood you have rightly earned. May your lives enrich your clan and do honor to our gods.”

Isal started to laugh with relief before the pain of his new tattoos made him wince, which only made it worse. Revassan gave his cousin and friend a slow smile, careful not to move his face too fast so as to avoid more pain than he was already feeling. “We did it, Isal. We did it.” He raised their still clasped hands, their fingers so stiff and sore it would be some work to get their hands back to normal again, and Revassan kissed the back of Isal’s hand in gratitude and victory. Isal returned the grin and the kiss as their family, friends, and clan surrounded them in congratulations.

If only Alyssana had been here to see it, perhaps to even receive her own vallaslin.


	3. OC Kiss Meme: Isalasanda & Alyssana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are stirring in the shemlen world, things too big to leave Clan Lavellan unscathed. A surprise visitor brings news, and a happy reunion, in her wake.

_**9:40  
** _

Alyssana had arrived earlier in the day and after the sweet reunion with her family members - all but Revassan and Isalasanda, who were out hunting - she grew serious and requested a conversation with Keeper Deshanna and her First. It was around the Keeper’s fire that their discussion took place, Atishavir sitting beside her mentor, attentive, while the Keeper and Alyssana discussed the situation afflicting the world.

Isalasanda reseated his brace of rabbits over one shoulder, laughing at something his companion had said. Revassan grinned as well, long arms looped casually over either side of the fresh pole he’d strung his own brace of rabbits to. The pair of them entered the camp again from the Planasene Forest around them, heading between the aravels towards the center of camp. A new head caught Revassan’s eye and he pointed it out to his cousin. “The Keeper seems to have a guest today. I wonder why they’re alone?” It wasn’t unusual to run across other elves, rarely, but mostly it happened when Clan Lavellan came across another Dalish clan’s scouts or path. Not solo elves in odd clothes. They were decidedly not Dalish, unless there was some reason for an Orlesian or Ferelden elf to find their way to the Free Marches?

Isal turned to look as they walked, squinting at the strawberry blonde hair of the guest. He noticed Atishavir seemed comfortable with their Clan’s guest, but considering there was no telling how long the new elf had been here, there was plenty of time for that to happen. Isal led their way closer to the Keeper’s fire, curious, something nigglingly familiar about their guest.”Do we know her?”

Revassan shook his head in response to his cousin’s question, but followed, curious as well. As they neared, Atishavir shot a glance in their direction before returning her attention to the conversation at hand, clearing her throat. The young men walked closer, rabbits still hanging from their shoulders. Isal’s brow furrowed as the line of her jaw and the angle of her cheekbone came into view, that sense of familiarity growing with every step he took.

She turned and a smile lifted her ink-less face with a light Isal and Revassan hadn’t seen in ten years. “Isal!” Alyssana shouted, leaping up and stepping over the bench she’d been sitting on to move closer to him. He wasn’t entirely aware of dropping his catch to the ground, despite Revassan’s hurried attempts to snatch the brace of rabbits in midair, but one moment Isal was standing across from the sister he hadn’t seen in a decade and the next his arms were around her, squeezing her tight.

Alyssana laughed, her own embrace tight around him. She paused long enough to plant a kiss on his cheek before stepping back just far enough to be able to look at him fully. “It’s good to see you, Isal. It’s been so long.” His grip remained steady on her, but she didn’t mind. Lifting one hand, she traced the lines of his _vallaslin_ , her face easing back into semi-serious neutrality. “Look at you!” The words rushed out of her in a breath. “Mythal’s lines, I see?” Aly was still Dalish enough to recognize each _vallaslin_ pattern and their variants.

While she was taking him in, Isalasanda was doing the same to his long lost twin sister. The last he’d seen of Alyssana had been in the middle of the night when they were fourteen and she’d made him promise not to tell anyone she was leaving or where she was going for at least a week. He’d promised, of course, she was his other half, his sister. But letters could never have done her or her adventures justice. “Yes, it’s been so long, Aly.” He freed her from one of his hands to reach up and brush her cropped hair back from her face, amazed that she’d sacrifice its length. When they were young, her long, rosy gold hair had been her pride and joy. It’s color had been the one thing Atishavir had ever been jealous about, the older woman’s hair an ashy blonde in comparison.

Revassan had the decency to not interrupt the twins’ reunion, instead heading across the fire to talk quietly with Keeper Deshanna and his own sister. Isal still couldn’t wrench his gaze away from his sister. She looked so different, older, full figured and a grown up woman now, just like he must look so different, _vallaslin_ on his face, a hunter’s muscles beneath his elven armor. She wore things he couldn’t have imagined her in, either, still utilitarian garb, suited to a wilderness trek, but there were sheathes he could see all over her person, and others he had felt in their hug but could not see. Since when had she ever been the sort to be so well armed? Before she’d left, Aly had been their craftmaster’s apprentice, and now…. Now she was a full fledged Orlesian bard, the kind shemlen stories warned you about.

Isal could take it no longer, her presence, her smile, so different but still precisely the same, and wrapped his sister up in a tight hug again, planting a kiss on her hair before pressing his cheek to her head. This elicited more giggles from Alyssana, like music to his ears.


	4. Revassan's "Worst" Memory: In Which There's A Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months before Alyssana's departure from the Clan, Revassan has a fateful encounter of his own.

**9:30, before In Which There's A Runaway**

It was just a stupid hunt, a _normal_ hunt. But no, he wound up _alone_. Again. Because the others didn’t feel like _actually_ following the trail the wild sheep were leaving for them. In retrospect, they were probably right, it was a bit far from camp, leading quite in the opposite direction from where “safe” typically was for such young hunters as they. Most of them hadn’t even earned their vallaslin yet. Rev hadn’t.

With the snarling face of a big male bear staring him down, Revassan didn’t really feel like he’d made the smarter of choices available to him, even though he did have three hefty sheep carcasses to show for his solo labors. He could totally run for it. But bears liked to chase what ran from them, typically. So that would be a no.

Figuring he had very little options left open to him at all, his knuckles going white around his bow, the fifteen year old kept watch on the big male through his eyelashes. He wasn’t trying to antagonize the poor thing more. “It’s alright, _falon_. I didn’t mean any harm. I just…y’know….” He took a quick glance at his three carcasses around his prone form. “Tripped.“ Mentally he was mostly just praying, particularly to Ghilan’nain and Mythal, but to any of the gods who might be listening.

The male came closer, snorting occasionally, clearly still quite interested in both boy and meat. Revassan swore he was going to die.

All of a sudden a deep bellow rent the air from behind Revassan, the shock of it making his eyes nearly fly from his face. Was he going to be a chew toy for TWO bears now? He couldn’t risk looking back, though he wanted to. Oh how he wanted to look back, but then there was a gust of very warm wind ruffling his hair and blowing against his skin. He thought he might die for lack of air, he was barely breathing for so long.

The second bear, the one from behind him, roared again and charged the big male. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut and curling up in the pile of dead sheep bodies, the fervor of his prayers increased tenfold. Usually he was decent with talking down animals, with speaking their languages. He wanted to be a ranger, after all, but you didn’t try to mess with a big hungry bear when you were scarcely trained and only fifteen. It was a terrible plan from the start. Not that he had intended any of it, of course!

The bellowing, reverberating smacks, and growls of a bear tussle took what felt like ages to end, though it was really only a few minutes at most. Once the male was clearly gone, the second bear came closer and Rev opened his eyes finally when it shoved its nose against his chest, sniffing him with great interest. Appraising his savior with gratitude and shock the young elf noticed that it was a female bear who had rescued him, one clearly nursing cubs by the state of her teats.

“Oh, thank you, _vhenallin_ , thank you so much. You’ve saved me! _Ma serannas_!” With slow, gentle movements Revassan reached out to caress the thick fur of her face. Higher pitched calls came from behind him now, and he turned his head carefully to see the mother’s cubs, three of them. “Oh, aren’t they beautiful!” Rev looked back to the mother bear and met her gaze with the softest look he could manage after nearly being scared to death. “My name is Revassan. In thanks, I would like to give you and your cubs one of my kills.” She could most definitely demand all three and at that point he would let her have them, if she wanted. But one seemed a more fitting tribute, not too much like charity or bribery, simply gratitude.

The female rumbled her appreciation of this idea, from what he could translate - he wasn’t perfect yet - and stopped sniffing him long enough to show interest in the largest of the sheep he had taken down. Revassan rose carefully to his feet and untied the selected offering from his makeshift method of dragging the three carcasses with rope - it had been slow going though not unreasonable considering the mostly level terrain. “Thank you again, _ma serannas_. Do you…before I go, do you have a name? I can’t promise I’ll understand, I’m still new to this, but I’d like to know it if I could?”

The female bear seemed almost to laugh and pressed her face against his chest again, chuffing either in amusement or approval. He wasn’t quite sure. Possibly both. _{Cedar.}_ With his answer and a parting scritch of thanks once more, the young man began his trudge back to camp, humming, as Cedar and her cubs began to partake of their meal.


	5. Atishavir's Worst Memory: In Which There's a Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and probably Isal's too.
> 
> Here’s a ficlet starring a few Lavellans (mine and @mysteryandcheekbones/TevinterSoldier‘s), and especially @neotericwitch/@the-momquisitor‘s Imira Lavellan (written with permission & encouragement). The aftermath when Alyssana leaves Clan Lavellan to become an Orlesian Bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a ficlet starring a few Lavellans (mine and @mysteryandcheekbones/TevinterSoldier‘s), and especially @neotericwitch/@the-momquisitor‘s Imira Lavellan (written with permission & encouragement). Imira Lavellan is a fantastic character and I'm so pleased and honored to get to play with her sometimes. Go check out neotericwitch/the-momquisitor on Tumblr! She's lovely too! ^__^

**9:30**

The morning started with that beautiful foggy dawn light that spoke of peace and hope. Atishavir loved that about early mornings, even if her warm bed would have also been more welcome. But mornings started early when you were Dalish, especially when you were Second to the Keeper. The nineteen year old ducked out of the aravel she shared with her Third, yawning. Taking up her staff, Tish walked through the Clan’s camp until she came to the training area used by the non-mage young people of Lavellan. She wasn’t planning on practicing any spell work, so she was safe to practice her pattern dances in public. When magic was done, Keeper Deshanna took Tish and Ashanalera - and the other mage younglings they might have - away from where they might hurt anyone else.

Some time passed, but not much, and then there was Isalasanda at her elbow, something clutched in his hand. “Tish?”

She spun to a stop in her spin and turned to face her fourteen year old cousin with a furrowed expression. “What is is, Isal?”

“It’s….” He seemed uncertain to start. “It’s Aly. She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone? She can’t be gone. She must be on a gathering trip for Master Tarathil?” As his apprentice, Alyssana had been trusted with gathering reagents for their work plenty of times before now.

Isal shook his head, looking utterly forlorn. “No. She’s gone gone. She made me promise to give her a head start….” Atishavir could understand his loyalty to his twin sister, but this was horrible. A fourteen year old out alone in the Planasene? That wouldn’t be the end of the world, but where was Aly going that she’d left like this?! How long ago had she even departed? Tish grabbed Isalasanda’s wrist without saying anything and half-dragged him with her towards the Keeper’s aravel.

Barely waiting after knocking, the young woman stuck her head inside. Deshanna was there with her daughter Imira, though their previous discussion was interrupted. “Yes, _da’len_?” Deshanna inquired, curious but not alarmed. Not yet. Tish couldn’t help but feel some amount of dread. She dragged her cousin inside with her and took a seat, resting her staff against the aravel wall.

“Keeper, Alyssana is missing. Or more accurately, she’s left.” Isal bowed his head wearing a look of shame while Atishavir spoke, his sister’s letter still clutched in his hands.

Deshanna’s brow furrowed and Imira turned to face the newcomers more fully. “What do you mean, left?” the Clan’s First demanded, fists clenching in her lavender skirts. Atishavir looked to Isal then, elbowing him gently.

The young man offered the letter with a slightly shaking hand. “She wrote this and, well, told me to hold onto it for her. It’s for our parents, and for you, Keeper.” It was clear to Tish that her cousin was slowly losing his hold on his calm. She felt for him, she did, but this could be really serious. If Alyssana got hurt or came across humans, she could die, and the risk to the rest of the Clan if any hostile humans decided to perhaps torture her for the location of her Clan? She never thought of herself as a doom and gloom type person, but Atishavir’s paranoia was beginning to run away with her.

Deshanna took the letter and held it open so both she and her daughter could read it. Halfway through they were both shaking their heads and growing clearly concerned. Deshanna sat back and refolded the letter with precision, glaring a little at Imira. “ _Ma’len_ , can you decipher where Alyssana discovered such an idea?” It was clear a fight could break out if anyone said the wrong thing.

“It was that _shem_ Bard,” Isal said, voice unsteady, while tears began to roll down his cheeks. “Two years ago, the one we captured because she got too close.” Though it probably didn’t help matters that their own First had left the Clan when she was younger and didn’t come back for ten years; no one said it though.

“I should have known, I should have seen. Alyssana’s always…raaah.” Imira slammed her fist into the wall of the aravel, making Tish’s staff slip just a tad and earning another reproachful look from Deshanna.

Atishavir bit her lip, looking between her mentors and her cousin. The Keeper laid a gentle hand on her First’s arm. “Now, _da’len_ , when did your sister leave?”

“Did she even return from her wood gathering for Master Tarathil?” Imira asked drily, a tad resigned and knowing. If she were to run away and had the freedom of being the Craftmaster’s apprentice, she would time her departure with a foray into the forest.

Isal merely shook his head, trying hard not to be a loud crier even as tears came faster down his face. Atishavir’s brow furrowed as she observed her cousin, but she couldn’t comfort him just yet. She was here, had brought him here, in her duties as Second of the Clan. After the Keeper and her First had decided on a plan of action, then she could take him back to the family aravel and give him a good hug.

The silence stretched on uncomfortably, broken by Isalasanda’s sniffles while Deshanna quietly conversed with her daughter. Suddenly it was too much for the young hunter-in-training and he broke the silence with a hiccup-interrupted outburst. “Am-am I going-g-g to be k-k-kicked out-t tooooo? _*hic*_ Forrr k-k-keeping Al-l-ly’s s-secret?”

“What?” “ _Da’len_ …” “Of course not!” Tish, Deshanna, and Imira respectively replied at once, in a hurry. Isal was practically a puddle of tears and covered his face in shame.

Deshanna gave her Second an authoritative look. “Go fetch Adahlen and Elrian, Atishavir, if they are still in camp.” Tish rose from her kneeling position in a swift, single motion, filled with purpose. Before she left the Keeper’s aravel she looked back at poor Isal and saw Imira gather the fourteen year old into her arms, making soothing noises.

Imira had had a hand in raising practically all of the children, since she had returned to Clan Lavellan when Atishavir was ten; this was a loss for everyone in the Clan, to different degrees. _Had Alyssana not thought of that when she made her plans?_ Tish thought as she moved through the camp with a steady sort of seriousness.


	6. Alyssana's Worst Memory: In Which There's A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourteen year old Alyssana's made it into Orlais and past Val Chevin on her way towards Halamshiral from the Planasene Forest. (Trigger warning for death, blood, and murder.)

**9:30, A few weeks after In Which There's A Runaway**

The cold didn’t bother her. Not really. She’d felt cold before; it wasn’t really avoidable growing up Dalish in winter. And she was used to “roughing it” as the shems might say. The worst part of trekking it across Thedas towards Halamshiral was the loneliness. Even crossing the Vimmark Mountains alone hadn’t been that bad; that had still been early enough into her foray that Aly had found the whole thing novel and enjoyable. Clan Lavellan never really crossed the Vimmarks, preferring to stay in and around the Planasene forest and the coastline. Even though the trip had gotten less shiny, less novel as time had gone on, Alyssana was still determined. She knew what she wanted out of life and as much as she loved her family, she didn’t want to just be the next Craftmaster. She wanted adventure.

Halfway between Cumberland and Val Chevin Alyssana headed into a small-ish town as the sun was sitting low in the sky. Pausing in an alley, she pulled the map she’d bartered for in Cumberland out of her pack. The young teenager bit her lip while she calculated how far she had traveled that day, and how much farther she had to go to get to Val Chevin. From there she could probably beg passage on a cart or carriage part of the way to the capitol. Satisfied with her plan, Aly put away the map and headed out of the alley towards the market area. It should still be open for a little bit longer and she had enough coins from her last day of work in the previous village to buy dinner and to restock some of her supplies.

The sun had set and Alyssana had filled her belly with hot food with no more than the usual odd looks for a knife ear newcomer by the time she was ready to find a place to sleep. The alleys were narrow, but the evening wasn’t breezy so being frozen by the wind shouldn’t be much of a problem. Aly was humming to herself, searching for a good spot to bed down, when a side door banged open and a drunk human man stumbled out, still laughing at whatever had occurred inside. The fourteen year old paused, wary.

The man noticed her when he went to go piss on the wall, instead sidetracked by the sight of her. Aly took a step back as the grinning man came closer, one hand drifting towards the hunting knife on her belt. “My, my, my, what’ve we he’r? A little lost rabbit, eh?” He leered and Alyssana stiffened. It wasn’t that she’d never been called a rabbit since she left her Clan. It was the nicest word shems used to refer to her race. No, this man’s manner reeked of the viper and the hungry bear. The only way to deal with either was to deflect or kill, if the first avenue didn’t work.

“I’m not lost.”

The man’s leering grin intensified and he stepped closer still. “I’m sure you don’ think y’are, li’l rab- _hic_ -it.” He moved to put a hand on her arm. “Wh’don’t you com’on inside and join the party then, no’lost li’l rabbit. I c’ld give y’a home.”

Afraid and angry, Alyssana drew her knife as she stepped within the full reach of the man before her. The night was her friend in that its darkness shielded her, and the man’s drunkenness prevented from feeling the first blow of her blade in his stomach until the little lost rabbit was already on her fifth quick upward jab. She didn’t strike deep, precisely, but she struck as fast as she could, waiting for the noxious oaf to collapse. Finally he did with a gurgle, clutching his stomach in surprise.

Panting, Alyssana stumbled backwards, watching her handiwork as moonlight illuminated the blood slowly pooling between his fingers. Her stomach lurched and she bolted, running blind down the alley and out towards the outskirts of town. Adrenalin pumped through her veins and Aly kept running until the lights of the town were closer to the horizon than they were to her. She hadn’t even sheathed her knife. Her knees were near to giving out and she nearly tripped before finding a welcome tree to lean against. Alyssana’s stomach lurched again, and then once more, before she gave up the ghost and doubled over, vomiting. Her knife was still in her hand.

When the contents of her stomach were cooling on the ground Aly made the effort to regain control of her breathing. She eyed her blade and found a few convenient leaves from her friend the tree to clean off most of the blood before sheathing it again. It appeared that she would not be sleeping that night after all.

Lost, perhaps she was, but Alyssana was no rabbit.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorian is the four's maternal grandfather.


End file.
